9 May 2014
Belle had been watching his foot jiggle all morning.
Despite this being only the third day of their honeymoon, Rumple had dressed in a full suit, as if he were going off to work. Belle couldn't fault him for that—whatever made him feel normal, that's what he should do, she told herself, though yesterday when she'd talked him into wearing jeans and a Partick Thistle FC sweatshirt for their afternoon hike in the forest, he'd looked so irresistible she'd cut the hike short (and had learned, the hard way, that forest floors were not the most comfortable surfaces for lovemaking).
This morning, after watching his foot jiggle all throughout breakfast and dishwashing and reading the morning papers, she'd finally relented. "Perhaps we should drop in at the shop for a few hours today, just to make sure things are all right."
His foot stopped jiggling. "Are you sure? This is our honeymoon. I wouldn't want to spoil it for you."
"An hour or two. Besides, I need to show you the new inventory spreadsheet I developed while you—" she suddenly broke off her sentence and shook her head. "I'm sorry."
"You can say it. We need to say it. While Zelena had me in her cage," he finished bitterly.
"Rumple, I think it would be a good idea if we talked to Archie. . . .After everything you've been through this past year, he could help. . . ."
"He's not a real psychiatrist; he's a cricket," Rumple stared hard at her. "You do know that, don't you, Belle? And before that, he was a pickpocket. I don't suppose he ever mentioned that, did he?"
"No, but—"
"So why would I want to expose my dark secrets to a thieving cricket?"
"Because he's done me a lot of good!" she blurted. Then she withdrew, realizing she'd revealed too much.
"I see. Have you been talking to him about us? About our arguments?"
"No! I mean, yes, I have talked to him about our relationship, and I told him we sometimes fight—"
"You've shared details of our private life with that fishwife?"
"No!" She leapt to her feet. "Rumplestiltskin, stop twisting my words. I've had weekly appointments with Dr. Hopper ever since I got out of Regina's asylum. You know that. And yes, I've shared all my worries with him, and when I thought you were in Neverland and I thought you'd never come back, he helped me work through my fears, and when I thought you were dead and we all got transported back to the Enchanted Forest, he helped Neal and me deal with all that. And while Zelena had you locked up and I feared every day for your sanity, he helped me cope. So don't you dare call him a cricket, and don't you even think about telling me I can't go to him for help any more, because I don't know what kind of state you'd have found me in, if he hadn't been there for me. I may not have been tortured like you were, but I was in that cage with you, every day she owned you!"
Rumplestiltskin had fallen silent, his face a mask of horror. She dropped to her knees beside him, taking his hands in hers. "I'm sorry, Rumple. I didn't mean to dump all that on you. You have so much to cope with already; you don't need my problems too. But please, think about going to see Archie. At least once, with our without me, and if after that one session, you still say he can't help you, I'll drop the subject."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He kissed her hands. "It didn't occur to me how much you suffered. I'm a selfish bastard. But then, you knew that long ago, didn't you?" He tried to smile wryly.
"Will you go to see him, just once?"
"Perhaps. Since he's done you so much good, he may be worth checking out." He sighed. "Now, let's go into town. A quick check of the shop—you know, with so many magical objects, it's a tempting place for some of the ne'er-do-wells in town. And then we'll get some ice cream and see a movie at the Bijou, eh?"
She allowed him to pull her to her feet.
An hour later, the Golds were taking advantage of Belle's inventory spreadsheets to assess the damage that had been to the shop while they were away. For, as Rumple had seemed to sense, they'd been broken into.
Grim-faced, Belle checked off items in her spreadsheet as Rumple systematically examined the shop. "It seems the damage is minimal," Rumple finally calculated. "One nonfunctioning lock, though I can't tell how it was rendered so, and one stolen necklace." From his old index-card system, he produced a card containing a photo of a necklace, its description, its history and its value.
"We can get Clarence Bolter out here this afternoon to fix the lock," Belle said. "We should file a police report, then call the insurance company."
"With the lock and the necklace, the loss totals—"
But he didn't get to sum it up; the prince and the pirate burst in.
"Another day, another crisis," Belle muttered under her breath.
"Yeah, there's an emergency," David admitted.
Hook butted in, and that got Rumple's back up. After a snippy exchange that reminded Belle of the fistfights her father's pages used to get into back in the Avonlea days, David assumed the official stance, possibly saving Hook from being changed into a cockroach or something lower. He explained that Elsa was in search of her sister, whom she believed to be in town because of a necklace she'd seen in the shop window.
Belle produced the index card immediately. "Is that it?"
Too caught up in his own search, David didn't ask how it was that Belle happened to have just the right card at hand. After glancing at the photo on the card, he declared he now knew where Anna was and dashed out, Hook in tow.
"I hope they get Emma out in time," Belle fretted as the door banged shut.
"They will." Rumple refiled the card. "Now we know who took the necklace and why."
"Is that something you see with your magic?"
"It's how the story's written," he shrugged. "Heroes always win, and they're the heroes. While villains. . . ." Such bitterness was laced through his words that she stroked his arm to try to soothe him. He pulled away, retreating to the workroom. "I'll call the insurance company. Perhaps you'd run over to the Any Given Sundae, get us a pint? I could really use that ice cream right now."
Despite the circumstances, she had to smile. Any other man might turn to alcohol in such discouraging times, but her Rumple drowned his sorrows in Butter Brickle.
When he heard the service bell tinkle, Rumple sat down on his workbench and picked up a jack-in-the-box Dove had been repairing. Life had just taken on a nasty complication. If the prince was right, somewhere in town was the only person in the world besides him, the Sorcerer, and the Apprentice who knew what the Hat was and what it could do.
And who knew that Rumplestiltskin had pursued it.
He would have to move fast to complete his work before the do-gooders found Chatterbox Anna. Belle's and Henry's safety depended upon it. He was going to need an ally to keep the Arandelleans out of the way, while he prepared the Hat.
